


Everything You Live For

by saidthemagpie



Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: Comfort, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 03:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saidthemagpie/pseuds/saidthemagpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanna shows up unexpectedly at Conrad's apartment, and awkward apologies quickly give way to deeper insecurities. Two people starved for a kind touch find relief in each other. </p>
<p>Contains: some angst on both parts, awkward first-time fumblings, humor and warm fuzzies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything You Live For

Conrad tenses up even before he hears the knock. Maybe his senses have been somehow heightened by his newfound vampirism (though he doubts that, seeing as how he finds that he still needs his glasses to see anything two feet in front of his face). Maybe it's just that he's been on edge ever since he fell in with the particular crowd he now considers---well, not friends, exactly, but...companions? Fellow freaks, the only people he feels comfortable around anymore, though he'd never admit it to them or anyone else. He wonders which one of them is at the door. Please god let it not be the doctor.   
  
He cracks open the door and is startled to see Hanna---alone. He realizes this might be the first time he's ever seen Hanna alone. He stares for a moment, then pokes his head out just enough to glance up and down the hall. The zombie is nowhere to be seen. He wonders if something's happened, if Hanna's undead partner has gone missing or been injured or---  
  
"Uh. Hey."  
  
Right. Hanna is still standing in the doorway, looking both slightly embarrassed and a little confused. Conrad snaps back to the present, manages a small smile. "Hi. Um. Where's...ah...where's your..."  
  
Hanna's frown of confusion deepens, then recognition dawns on his face and he smiles. "Oh! Estragon. He's waiting back at the apartment. Probably reading. I, uh, I just came to..." The smile is gone, replaced by a look that makes something twist uncomfortably in Conrad's stomach. "Can I come in?"  
  
"Y-yes. Sure. Of course." Conrad stands aside, and with a sudden burst of speed Hanna shoots past him and into the living room. Conrad lets the door swing closed, completely baffled. Turning, he sees that Hanna is already sitting on the sofa, knees bouncing slightly, hands fidgeting, eyes darting all around the apartment.   
  
"Wow, Connie, your place is so---I mean I know I've been here before but I see new stuff every time, I mean it's oh man how would you say, minimalist? But there's still so much to look at and---"  
  
"Hanna." He hadn't meant it to come out sounding so stern. Just like that, the momentary facade of energy and enthusiasm crumbles. Hanna looks miserable. Conrad is almost sorry he spoke, but he needs to know whatever it is Hanna really came here to tell him. "What's going on?" He sits down on the far end of the sofa from his now clearly dejected guest.   
  
Hanna looks at the floor. It's as if he wants to look the vampire in the eyes but can't bring himself to raise his head. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "Shit. I'm just...I'm just really sorry."  
  
"Sorry? For what?" Conrad racks his brain but he can't seem to come up with a reason for the diminutive paranormal investigator to look so...well, guilty.   
  
Then Hanna looks up at him, incredulous---"For this! For killing you!"  
  
Oh. Right.  
  
"---I mean I know _I_ didn't exactly kill you but it was pretty much all my fault and then I turned you into _this_  to save you but seriously I am such a fuck-up and I know I already apologized but it's just, it's just I can't stop thinking about how much you must hate me and---"  
  
Hanna looks as if he's about to cry. Conrad can barely wrap his head around it---he's never seen Hanna like this, never imagined that Hanna could look so broken up. For a moment he has the sense that something else---something that lies deeper than Hanna's guilt over the whole vampire incident---is at work here, but he pushes that aside. Whatever that is, it's too big, too far back. Even if some memory of it set Hanna off tonight, it's the present they have to deal with now.   
  
"Hanna." His voice is firm but gentle this time, and he's surprised to see that he's taken the younger man's hand. It's not even a lie when he says, "I do  _not_  hate you."   
  
Impossibly blue eyes stare into Conrad's for a moment, and then suddenly Hanna  _is_ crying---sniffles giving way to full on sobs as he pulls away and buries his head in his hands.  _Christ,_  thinks Conrad,  _what did I do wrong? Fucking hell, what now, oh shit...I'm no good at this sort of thing, what do I do?_  But even as he thinks it, he's edging closer to Hanna, reaching out---what's come over him?---and his hands find Hanna's shoulders. Hanna's breath hitches and he stifles a sob, looks up at Conrad in bewilderment, but he barely has time to open his mouth before Conrad has pulled him into what might possibly be the most awkward hug ever. Hanna is pressed tight to Conrad's chest, the tears on his cheek leaving damp marks on the fabric of Conrad's shirt.   
  
Conrad's eyes are shut tight. He has no idea what he's doing, still mentally cursing in confusion, but he realizes that Hanna's breathing has slowed. He feels movement, looks down to see that Hanna's arms have wrapped around his thin frame, and Hanna is...curling up, slightly, settling himself against Conrad, face buried and unreadable. Conrad feels the tension that had been coursing through him start to leave his body, his shoulders slackening and jaw relaxing. It's as if his whole being is sighing. He notices that everywhere Hanna is touching him, he feels incredibly warm, like the smaller man somehow radiates heat.   
  
Hanna sighs audibly, muffled slightly by Conrad's shirt but still conveying all the relief that has suddenly permeated the room. Then, a small laugh, and he turns his head a little to speak. "S-sorry, man, I...I'll leave in a minute, I know this is...awkward...I just..." He pauses, takes a deep and still slightly rattling breath. "It's been a  _really_  long time, since anyone..." And he can't finish, just lets it hang there. Conrad nods, unable to respond.   
  
Neither speaks. Conrad is listening to Hanna's heartbeat, loud and steady, focusing on its rhythm the way he used to focus on his own heart during moments of panic. He isn't panicking now, but his mind is spinning and he clings to the stability of that beat. He tries to name the things he's feeling, to qualify and control them. Awkward is certainly an apt description of the situation. He's confused, yes, and maybe embarrassed. He finds that he feels sorry for Hanna, sorry for whatever pain it is that's bound up inside him, and there's a tenderness in that feeling that startles him. He looks down at the tangled mess of red hair and that tenderness blooms further in his chest. He doesn't remember ever feeling like this, feeling this protective of another person.   
  
There's something else. It's hard to put this last feeling, what is quickly becoming the strongest feeling, into words, and Conrad isn't sure he wants to name it and own it. He knows Hanna's words ring true for him as well---he tries to picture the last time someone embraced him. There's a sudden, terrifying image of his mother, and a feeling of suffocation that he mentally shakes off---no, no, that was nothing like this. That wasn't even real affection, much less...whatever this is. He's electrified by the physical contact. If his heart still beat, it would be racing now.   
  
As if in response to his thoughts, Hanna's heartbeat starts to quicken, and he feels Hanna begin to pull away. Something inside him sinks as the contact breaks. He sees that Hanna is flushed, wonders if his own face shows any similar sign. Hanna looks away, starts to get up, and it takes every ounce of strength Conrad can muster just to choke out---"wait."  
  
Hanna stops short, poised on the edge of the sofa, ready to leave or stay at a word and the expression on his face equally expectant.   
  
"You don't have to leave," Conrad manages.   
  
"No, really, it's okay, I know that was probably really weird for you and I'm....I mean, I came here to apologize and I messed that up too so I should probably just go home now and---"  
  
"I want you to stay." There. No taking it back now. Conrad shuts his eyes, bites his lip (mercifully the fang does little damage---he's learning to work around it). He's sure Hanna will leave now, this cannot possibly get any weirder, but all he can think is how badly he wants to feel Hanna curled up in his arms again, close and warm and alive.   
  
"...why?" Hanna's voice is small, uncertain, but not unkind. He sits back, bringing himself that much closer to Conrad, only inches away now and it's insane how Conrad can feel his warmth even  _without_  touching. The vampire opens his eyes again with a pained expression. Hanna's face is a picture of innocent concern, but Conrad thinks he catches the faintest glimpse of something hopeful there. He stares for a moment and then suddenly he has the powerful, unbelievable urge to kiss Hanna. He blinks.  _No. No no no. Out of the question._  He's ashamed of himself. There are still tear-stains on Hanna's cheeks. A drop glistens at the corner of his left eye. As if in a trance, Conrad lifts a hand and gently wipes it away, fingers ghosting delicately over Hanna's reddening cheek.   
  
"Conrad?" Hanna breathes. "Are you okay? What---"  
  
The words are cut off by the sudden press of Conrad's lips against Hanna's. Hanna lets out a small startled "mmph!" but doesn't pull back. It's Conrad who breaks away, hovering entranced with their mouths barely touching, feeling Hanna's breath enter his own mouth for a moment and then getting a hold of himself and turning away in shame.   
  
Then there's a hand on his face, pulling him back, and then Hanna is kissing him. He loses himself in it, desperate and hungry for this incredible warmth and softness. One arm slips around Hanna's waist to pull him closer and the other hand finds the back of Hanna's head, fingers knotting into red curls. Hanna's hands are pressed flat against Conrad's chest. They begin to slide slowly up, brushing either side of Conrad's neck and coming to rest gently cupping his face. Conrad feels as though he's on fire everywhere Hanna touches, craves the contact of their skin.   
  
After a little while, Hanna breaks the kiss to breathe. Panting shallowly, he rests his head gently on Conrad's shoulder. "Woah. Uh. Wow," he stammers. "That was..." He lifts his head again and laughs, dazed eyes full of bewildered affection. "That was awesome."   
  
Conrad can't help but smile. He feels every bit as confused and shocked as Hanna looks, but he can taste Hanna on his lips and the sensation is overpowering. He's not sure what to say, in light of how many lines (both personal and interpersonal) they just crossed. His whole body is aching now, and he's surprised at how aroused he's become. Amazed that it's Hanna---reckless, naive, frustratingly energetic Hanna---who's called up such a storm in him. It's a strange, new Hanna that nestles into him now...soft, gentle, vulnerable Hanna, Hanna who needs to be touched just as much as Conrad needs, never knew he needed so much.   
  
"God, you're warm," he says quietly, and finds his voice is uncharacteristically breathy and low. He doesn't want to scare Hanna, doesn't want to rush or push or do anything that might send him away, but it's getting difficult to keep his mind from straying to what Hanna's unclothed body would feel like pressed against his.   
  
Hanna shifts position, maneuvers a leg to the other side of Conrad and slides up and into his lap so he's straddling him. Conrad is startled by the confidence of the movement, what might seem like an overtly seductive gesture if not for the utterly rapt expression on Hanna's face. Hanna kisses him again, gently. Conrad strokes Hanna's back appreciatively, trailing down until he reaches the hem of his shirt, and then he can't help himself. He slips a hand under and up, enjoying the feeling of skin on skin.   
  
A soft "ahh" escapes Hanna and he arches back into the touch. "C-cold..." he breathes. Conrad starts to retract his hand, but then "no, it feels good. Hnn." And Hanna reaches down and under the front of Conrad's shirt, palm smoothing its way up his stomach. Conrad moans a little at the touch. He's getting hard, sure that Hanna can feel it the way they're pressed together. He hopes Hanna realizes what he's doing, hopes desperately that this is really as mutual as it seems. His hands find Hanna's hips, fingers curling about the bone to pull him in and down, and there, he can feel Hanna's erection, stiff and hot through the fabric of his jeans.   
  
"Unnnhhhh..." Hanna's face is flushed, eyes squeezed shut. He looks almost pained. Conrad watches him through half-lidded eyes, waiting, wanting Hanna to make the next move. Stillness for a moment, and then Hanna slowly rolls his hips forward, grinding himself against Conrad, and Conrad lets his head tilt back against the sofa and shudders with pleasure.   
  
"H-Hanna," he moans, and then leans forward to plant a kiss on the side of Hanna's neck. He starts to lift Hanna's shirt, and feels the younger man's body tense up, looks up to see a slight edge of panic in his eyes. "I'm sorry, we don't have to..."  
  
Hanna looks conflicted. "It's...it's not that. It's just I...well..." And he takes a deep breath, then slowly takes the hem of his own shirt and lifts, exposing a massive, zig-zagging scar, held closed by what look like giant staples. Conrad's eyes widen, but he isn't shocked---he'd caught a glimpse of the edge of this thing once before, wondered about it but felt it best not to pry. Now he very gently touches the tips of his fingers to part of the scar, just above Hanna's navel.  
  
"Does it hurt?"  
  
Hanna shakes his head, letting the shirt fall back down to cover him up again. "No. It's...pretty old. It's just...yanno..." And he looks resigned, the expression of someone who stands in front of a mirror and hates what he sees reflected there. "It's okay," Hanna mutters, "if you...I mean if you don't want to, I understand..."  
  
By way of response, Conrad pulls Hanna into a fierce kiss, then keeps his eyes focused on Hanna's as he lifts the shirt up and over, letting it fall to the floor. For a moment Hanna just stares, looking both relieved and self-conscious, but then a smile tugs at the corner of his lips and he helps Conrad out of his shirt. Now it's Conrad's turn to feel uncomfortably self-aware---he sees that his skin is even paler than Hanna's very fair shade of pink, the contrast between the living and the dead so obvious this close. But Hanna doesn't even seem to notice, much less care---he's busy exploring, soft warm hands running over Conrad's cool chest and stomach. Conrad caresses Hanna's sides, so thin he can feel the protrusion of ribs, and he's struck by how fragile Hanna seems. There's power in him, though, Conrad can feel energy coursing through Hanna and he wonders whether it has anything to do with his magic ability. Such a bundle of contradictions.   
  
Hanna presses his hips against him again, hands gripping his shoulders, and Conrad's musings are lost in a wave of need. Their kisses are becoming quicker, more frantic, hands straying lower and playing about the waistbands of their pants. Conrad hesitates a moment, fingers tucked ever so slightly into the front of Hanna's jeans, and then he starts to undo the fly.   
  
"Um," says Hanna, and Conrad looks up from what he's doing to see the most radiant blush. "I...I've...actuallyneverdonethisbefore," he blurts out. "I mean I want to, I really really want to," he adds quickly before Conrad can retreat. "I just. Thought you should know."   
  
Conrad smiles, really smiles, relief written all over his face. He puts a hand on the back of Hanna's neck, draws him in and tilts his own head forward so that their foreheads are just touching. "Me neither."  
  
"Oh," Hanna says quietly, almost a whisper, but Conrad can hear the smile in it. "Well. Then...I guess..."  
  
"We just...take it slow?" Conrad murmurs, and there's a quick nod and a gentle, almost chaste kiss on his cheek. His head spins for a moment--- _this is Hanna, Hanna, what am I doing?_ \---but then his attention is quickly drawn back by the fact that Hanna is standing up, beginning to peel out of his jeans himself.   
  
Finally it occurs to Conrad that something difficult to clean up might be about to happen to his sofa. "I do have a bed, you know."  
  
Hanna grins sheepishly, the top of his dinosaur boxers peeking out from the sagging waistband of his pants. "Ha! Right. Sure. Um..." and Hanna looks about for a moment, locates the door to the bedroom, and bounds off in that direction. Conrad sits for a moment staring after him, head cocked to one side in mild disbelief. After a moment he stands and follows.  
  
Conrad pauses in the doorway. Hanna is sitting on the edge of the bed looking up expectantly, lower lip slightly tucked up under his front teeth. He's removed his glasses and set them on the nightstand---something about seeing Hanna without his glasses makes him look even more exposed, more vulnerable, and Conrad suddenly has the ghost of a second thought. The last thing he wants is to hurt Hanna, in any way. He reminds himself that Hanna is not a child, however much he may sometimes look and act like one. He pictures the way Hanna looked only moments before, flushed and needy, and feels a low sweet ache that draws him forward towards the bed. He takes off his own glasses---so much for seeing each other clearly---and sets them down next to the other pair. Grinning, Hanna reaches out to pull him into a playful kiss, drawing Conrad down onto the bed on top of him.   
  
The delicate brushing of their stomachs sends a chill down Conrad's spine. He lets himself sink into Hanna, into the comforting warmth of him, then arches up again to begin trailing kisses down Hanna's torso. Hanna giggles a little as Conrad reaches his stomach, then moans softly as his lips move lower, down to the place where his jeans lie half-open. Conrad looks up, locks eyes with Hanna for a moment, then starts to slide Hanna's pants and boxers down over his hips and legs. With a little kick from Hanna they settle to the floor. Conrad straightens up to slip out of his own remaining garments, eyes roving hungrily over Hanna's bare form. Hanna watches him disrobe with equally unwavering attention. He begins to sit up, but Conrad gently grips his shoulders and pushes him back down.  
  
Conrad has only a general idea of what he ought to be doing, but seeing as neither party has any sort of experience to judge by, he supposes it's safe to simply give it his best shot. His hands curl around Hanna's hips and he lowers his head, admiring Hanna's now painful-looking erection. His tongue finds the base of Hanna's cock and he licks upwards, slowly, enjoying the salt of Hanna's skin and the way Hanna cries out and has to dig his fingers into the bedspread to keep from bucking his hips. He reaches the tip, and slowly takes Hanna into his mouth (he's going to have to be careful of the fang, he realizes almost too late, but makes the necessary adjustment in angle).   
  
Hanna moans and turns his head, brow furrowed, desperately trying to keep himself from coming too soon. Conrad's own cock is aching for attention and he reaches down with one hand, feels it jump and throb against his palm, tries to concentrate on what he's doing to Hanna while gently keeping up a steady rhythm on himself.   
  
"Hnnnhh, ohh! C-Conrad, nnnnggg, don't s-stop," Hanna pleads, gasping as Conrad sucks a little harder out of curiosity. He wishes he could see Hanna's face more clearly, but settles for listening to the incredible sounds he makes, soft low moans and high breathy whines. One of Hanna's hands has found the back of Conrad's head and his fingers work through Conrad's hair, stroking and clinging. Conrad licks and sucks at the head of Hanna's cock and then swallows him down almost to his full length, causing Hanna to shudder and pant and curse softly. He repeats the motion a few times and then suddenly Hanna's hips thrust forward and his breath catches in his throat, and he's coming---Conrad can taste him, hot and salty on his tongue and he swallows it down, pulls back just in time to catch a glimpse of Hanna's face, eyes shut tight and mouth forming a perfect O in ecstasy.   
  
Conrad licks his lips, stretching up and sprawling on the bed next to Hanna, who is still breathing shallowly and recovering from the force of his orgasm. He watches fondly as Hanna's eyes open and his head turns to look at Conrad. Hanna sighs, eyes glassy, a lazy smile creeping across his face, and then his eyes widen in realization. "Oh!" he starts. "You, uh, you didn't..." Conrad certainly hadn't forgotten about himself, cock still half-hard, but Hanna looked spent and he supposed he could finish himself off. He's undeniably pleased as Hanna props himself up on his side, begins to kiss Conrad's neck and shoulder, hand trailing down his stomach and brushing against his stiffening erection.   
  
Hanna's fingers trace the length of his cock, almost maddeningly lightly, and Conrad is embarrassed to hear himself whine breathlessly, anxiously. Hanna's grip gradually begins to tighten, and he works the shaft of Conrad's cock slowly, lubricated by the pre-come that has begun to leak from its tip. Conrad moans and writhes, thrusting into Hanna's hand as he speeds up his strokes---"nnnhhh, fuck, FUCK ohhhh"---and then Hanna is kissing him, muffling his cries. Conrad is beginning to see white on the edges of his vision, and he's having too much trouble focusing on trying not to come to be careful about his fang anymore. It catches on the edge of Hanna's tongue and draws blood---barely a drop, the lightest of scratches, but the taste of it pushes Conrad over the edge and his eyes roll back. He comes hard, so hard he thinks he might faint. When it's over, he sees Hanna above him, looking thoroughly startled, sucking gently on the tip of his wounded tongue.   
  
"Woah," Hanna breathes, and then smiles amusedly.   
  
"Sorry...about your..." Conrad manages, but Hanna shakes his head emphatically.  
  
"No! It was an accident. I'm fine. That was...amazing, though. Wow." He falls back onto the bed, blinking up at the ceiling, and laughs quietly. Conrad nods slowly and closes his eyes. They lie side by side for a few minutes in silence, Conrad listening to the sound of Hanna's even breathing.   
  
After a little while, he turns to Hanna. "I...I really can't believe we just did that."   
  
Hanna rolls over onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows, expression utterly earnest. "We're going to do it again, though, right?"  
  
A pause. "Absolutely."


End file.
